Escape
by Aranel Naur
Summary: Even the all powerful Takahashi Keisuke has secret fears. KeisukeXKenta


**A/n**: this fanfic is based on a dream I had a couple of months ago. A really weird and creepy one, so I tried to show all the feelings I experienced in the dream

**Warnings:** none

**Disclaimer:** even though unfortunately, but I do not own Initial D

**Escape**

"Gosh, this totally gets me, I should do something about it," he mutters before rushing through the open doors of a department store.

On Takahashi Keisuke's mind, one and only thought - get rid of an irritating young man who does not let him be. Like obsessed, he runs after him here and there, so that he feels paranoid, having a maniac following behind. And to think that this maniac is his own protégé! Who would have thought that a fearless Keisuke would ever seek peace from a chasing Nakamura!

In the grey rows of the supermarket, hidden by huge shelves with bottles and cans, it must be the first time that he feels not lost but secure, not in the least scared by masses of whatnot around, he's sheltered, somewhat comforted even. The inner solace he's just managed to regain thankfully makes his crazy heartbeat slow down, and he catches his breath, able to think clearly at last.

It has not been long since their acquaintance and since Keisuke acknowledged the boy for his what seemed promising skills, yet two days of knowing each other have turned into eternity, no less, the worst part of which is his spying.

'Something has to be done,' he repeats, leaning against a high shelf, eyes darting from side to side to check out if he is still safe here. Yes. So far.

The suffering guy wishes he were surrounded by hundreds of these cans, or disappear for a moment, be there a Harry Potter's invisible cape. The situation so reminds of a horror movie scene, except it is for real, which makes it all the more chilling. There is no ugly alien crawling up, a thick trail of sticky footprint as his after-step. 'Fear no zombies,' the blond recalls his mate say, 'For there are no dead men alive. Fear real people.' He sees the truth of the saying at the moment. Standing alone - now hardly a luxury - fright ready to take over, he plucks up the rest of courage, secretly wondering how come he still has it, and steps forward, blond strands of hair somewhat disheveled, forehead sweaty, palms clammy. Cautiously, two green eyes then peek through rows of cans - the coast is clear. 'This is one ghastly matter,' the conclusion passes his mind before he decides to get out of the shelter and sneak out of here while the guy continues the search, 'And nerve-wrecking too.'

Not that poor thing hates him like anything, not that he plans to dump him out of the team, the problem is his extra attachment. Like a perfect bruiser walking after a celebrity, like a hired detective spying upon a victim, Kenta is doing the same. And while in the beginning such an affection was flattering, by today it has grown into unreasonable silliness, making the guy a prey. Step by step, the blond nears beeping machines, and hopefully, the security do not find his behavior suspicious. He has a long way to go, though. Maybe such an attitude shows his weakness - he can't approach Nakamura and tell him outright what he thinks of him. Oddly enough, for all his obsession he is a very nice-looking young man. If only he were more reserved and less desperate, he sighs. Big chocolate-colored eyes drawing everyone's attention at once, soft shoulder-length hair, open smile as well as his child-looking appearance... 'Who would have thought that - '

"Gotcha!"

' - that this kid is a maniac,' a taken aback Takahashi thinks to himself as two warm arms wind around his waist - no need to check twice who is there caught him just in front of the Doors of Salvation. The guy cannot see his face where a quite predictable expression reads, 'My doom's behind my back.'

People, staring at the pair, carry on with purchases only for a few seconds distracted by the view, unable to see a somewhat queer, whining look of the tortured one. He has no idea if Kenta has always been like this or is it him who has driven him mad, all he is asking is why. Yet, answers don't come - the guy barely says anything coherent, opting for bodily language: embracing, squeezing, gripping to the point of hurting. It is not pleasant at all, but this might be the only way he can express his feelings. There is no denying that the kid is fond of his master, but isn't he going too far? He feels physically restricted as they pass towards the exit, smaller hands never leaving his frame, palms pressing against the stomach so hard it makes him difficult to breathe, and when outside the store, he attempts to break free, but even when he succeeds, these arms catch him again. The pleading look is still there, to which the guy, as if mockingly, replies with a smile, as usual, and his fingers start to poke into Keisuke's stomach, insistently, and the blond wishes anyone would come for help, meanwhile the pressure of his index grows as it is burying into his skin, causing the pain he can barely stand. For a brief moment Keisuke is thankful that Nakamura doesn't stick his tongue inside his mouth and down his throat, denying access to oxygen - the thought makes him dizzy. Sick is not the word to describe his condition.

It is a mess of a tie he cannot end because he frights to think what will happen if he does. What if Kenta's punishment would take a crazier form? What if stalking would turn into madder actions? That crippled bond is bound to last forever… or until his racing team breaks up.

Suddenly, out of the blue, he hears somebody calling, and hurries straight to the one who has come for rescue. A friend is there to help.

"Please, don't ask, just go," the guy warns his male acquaintance, finding another chance to escape, and the second one complies, surprised at such a reaction.

Matsumoto, another RedSun, arrived here to shop, unaware he would end up running away instead of chatting with the crew members. Poor blond, however, decides against any explanation, all he wants is a place safe enough, where the out-and-out villain won't get to lay his hands on him in both meanings of the word. Said villain rests alone near the department store, seeing the men off with his gaze, feeling like he is losing something very precious.

With all details narrated at last, everything becomes clear to the other driver, and wide-eyed, he stares at his friend, still refusing to believe it in a way. During the two days he has known Kenta, it never occurred to him he might be that sort of a person, and behind smiles, good-hearted laughter and hugs he failed to define a near-sadistic nature. Matsumoto knits his eyebrows when the story is over.

"So I just ran away, otherwise he would've given me a death grip. Every time I near faint. This is not normal"

"No wonder you look that scared, he's creepy, Keisuke," his dark brown eyes are full of compassion, "Stay there for a time being, alright?"

And before even a nod can be given, the doorbell rings and both startle.

"Relax, it's my friends, I was planning a party," he says, heading for the hall.

They came to his apartment half an hour ago, but even with another guy around, the blond does not feel protected, as though walls and doors are not defense enough. He feels miserable and angry at himself. Where has his almightiness gone? Somehow, he foresees that the guy can appear here any moment, the realization makes his blood run cold as he peeks around the corner at the newcomers. Luckily, Kenta is not among them. Noisy, loud, the crowd breaks into the place, scattering about the rooms, so that it livens up at once, and as time goes by, more doorbells sound, and all but self-invited guests pull inside. The host, occupied by welcoming people, completely forgetful of the first visitor, leaves him to fend for himself and choose a company to his taste, which he does soon. It is only at the back of his mind that the nagging fear hides, but he is not willing to give in to it. Why not have fun and a couple of beers with everyone? Although strangers, they seem absolutely sane, and nervousness fades away, replaced by tipsiness and hum of chatter and music in the background. It feels good.

"Yo, guys! What's up?" two arms land on two persons' shoulders as the man comes up to a group of guests and then a pleasant smile adorns his face. Immediately, mist in Keisuke's head together with joy vanish, when he recognizes the one he is so afraid of. It's Nakamura standing right across, grinning, sparkling blue eyes defiant, sneering, and he gulps, watching him unblinkingly while his heart beats rapidly in the alert mode. So he has made his way here in the end, unnoticed. No one has the slightest doubt, greeting the cutie, after what he gets close to his prey, and not even searching for a nook, performs the habitual deed, embracing the master. Again, Keisuke is entrapped. This time his hands hold him tightly, but he won't dare a torture in front of others. The act triggers laughter, and in the heat of passion things go out of control, so no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop him - he cannot beat his protégé and in the presence of all these people, after all! The guy is bound to stay with him throughout the party, accept painful embraces, leaving him nauseous while the same theatrical smile enchants all females around. Looks like the monster will only set him free for several hours, letting alone for the night, and be there at his door in the morning.

Sometimes he thinks it's just a dream, yet a pinch is never a salvation as harsh reality strikes him every day in the image of his young buddy. The always-so-powerful Takahashi has suddenly become a strength-lacking boy, easily manipulated and scared as one orange-loving teen has managed to unreveal his most secret fears and make him feel like babe in the woods from where he yet needs to find an escape.


End file.
